Not many people have the privilege of performing a military funeral; whether it be folding the flag or performing a 21-gun salute, it is an incredible honor - and I am one of the lucky few who can be a part of one. Being able to pay respect to a veteran is both a blessing and a struggle, but most of all it is an extremely humbling experience. On Monday, August 29, I took part in the flag folding of what was, by far, the hardest funeral I have been a part of.
I have done several funerals before, so other than this veteran being cremated rather than buried, this was definitely not a new thing. As with most other funerals, it began with talking to family members, then a not-so-short service followed by a song or two and prayer. After these parts were over, I and four other JROTC cadets walked to the front of the pulpit to unfold and display the flag before refolding and presenting. Everything went as usual from the time we left our seat to when we displayed the flag - which involved having one cadet holding each corner and the OIC (officer in command) standing off to the side and preparing to receive and present the folded flag to the veteran’s next of kin.
Now, here is where it becomes the hardest funeral:
This was not just a funeral for a person of a local family, but much more than that. This was the family I had known personally for nearly a decade, and our OIC was the granddaughter of the fallen veteran. This girl of whom I had been friends with since elementary school and never witnessed her as anything other than happy, smiling and laughing was reduced to tears and sobs as she stood behind me, waiting to present the soon folded flag to her aunt.
As we raise the flag to present it during the 21-gun salute, the four of us realize how hard it is becoming to keep the military bearing we spent many hours of class time practicing over the course of two and three years. We hold the flag at a 45-degree angle facing the family and wait for the salute to begin.
“Ready. Aim. Fire!”
As the first round goes off, the most prominent sound in the room was not the gunfire, but the painful wail of the man’s daughter after she jumped in shock after the first shot.
“Ready. Aim. Fire!”
The second shot, like the first, causes the family to jump as a result of the loud noise. By this time, one of our cadets was barely able to keep her bearing; she kept perfect eye contact with me, as she was directly across from me, and I watched as her eyes filled with tears and her face turned red as she tried to hold back any noise.
“Ready. Aim. Fire!”
The final round goes off, and taps begin to play. The family is all in tears and the two eldest daughters of the deceased bawl together as the trumpet plays outside the door. I notice my hands trembling, as they do when I fight to hold back emotion. As the playing of taps completes, we on the flag detail begin the folding process: fold bottom-up twice, then in triangles 13 times. During this time we are silent, and at all other funerals so is the family as they watch. This time, however, the room was full of the pain-filled sobs of the family, including our OIC. We salute the flag in silence, and the four of us leave the church to join the cadets who performed the 21-gun salute outside. As soon as the fourth person walked out and closed the door, we, too, were reduced to tears and sobs.
The ride back to the school was the loudest silence I have ever known, making the trip seem like an eternity despite it being no more than 20 minutes. This painful event was an extremely humbling situation and gave me a new view towards these funerals: I wasn’t just giving honor to a fallen soldier - I was giving honor to a husband, brother, father, grandfather and the family he was willing to risk his life for.
